


Respite

by JenCforCarolina



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenCforCarolina/pseuds/JenCforCarolina
Summary: After Towerfall, a breath of rest.





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

> [On tumblr here ](http://jencforcarolina.tumblr.com/post/159019432328/respite)

Snow fell in a dusting. The wind wrapped it like a second cloak around Lord Saladin.

He stood, hands clasped behind his back, between the towering carvings of wolves, boots spread, solid as a wall at the end of the bridge. He couldn’t see down the peak from this angle, but Shiro and other scouts had returned recently. He knew they were coming.

There was a twinge of smoke in the air, even here. Miles upon miles away.

The iron doors from Vostok were closed. Efrideet lingered by his side, arms crossed in front of her.

The air shifted with an approach, buzz from a silent crowd. The subtle crescendo of the arrival of many feet, many bodies. The door on the far side of the bridge creaked open, a sound louder than expected. Through the opening, the survivors trickled in.

At their head was a weary man, grime smudged along his helmet, blood crusted on his chestplate. As the procession crossed the bridge, he kept his head down. It was only when proximity forced his attention did Zavala raised his head to meet Saladin’s gaze.

“We come to beg refuge.” He said, calm and collected, the weight of thousands behind him. “And I, forgiveness.”

Saladin released his hands, swung them forward to rest on each of his student’s arms. The damn pauldron too awkward for proper comforting. He bit back the animosity. Now was not the time. No longer.

“Welcome, old friend.” He said, stepped aside. Those populating Felwinter Peak surged forward, wrapping arms around familiar faces, gesturing to and guiding refugees. Solemn activity swept over the plaza as the long train of people were welcomed inside. The two Titans were an island in the middle of it all. 

It was Zavala that hooked an arm, closed the gap with a swift embrace. His weight felt heavy, Saladin wasn’t surprised. There were no words spoken, but the rift that had once spread between them stayed closed when they separated. And with the camaraderie of the weary, they joined the rest under the high roof of the Iron Temple.


End file.
